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Being underground was something Harry’s brain couldn’t comprehend. Sure, he’d known he was going into the old tin mine to see Magenta, but he’d figured it would be like visiting a cave. A nice, open-plan cave. One that had been there for millions of years. A perfectly safe natural occurrence. The reality was far from the fantasy. He was trapped in a space the size of his bedroom, with very little natural light and evidence all around that this was far from nature’s doing. Someone had hacked this mine out of the hill. They’d shored it up with timber. Old timber. Timber that was probably rotting, or being eroded by mites. He was stuck in an old, badly made hole in the ground. Just the thought of it made his palms clammy and his throat close.
“Magenta’s on her way.” Matt’s voice cut through his rising panic. “Couple of hours and she’ll get to you. She’ll lead you back out through the mine. Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
All Harry heard were the words back through the mine. No. No way. Not going to happen. “Call her back. She’s wasting her time.” His voice sounded kind of tinny. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m walking out of that door.”
“Don’t be a drama queen.” His cousin sounded tense. “Magenta knows this mine like the back of her hand.”
Harry looked at his hand. How well did anyone know the back of their hand? If he closed his eyes he couldn’t bring up an accurate image of his, and he saw it millions of times a day. Matt’s words were not reassuring.
“I’ve done the calculations,” he told his cousin. “If this comes down on me, there won’t be a body for you to recover. I’ll be pulverised.”
There was a pause. He could almost see Matt rubbing his jaw and muttering for extra strength. “You got any alcohol in that picnic basket Betty made you pack?”
“Wine.” Red, white and sparkling. He didn’t know what Magenta drank, so he’d covered the bases. He also had bottled water and a set of miniature cans of juice and soda. The damn basket was almost as big as a car. Harry had been pleased that years of workouts meant he could carry the thing.
“Good,” Matt said. “Pop the cork on a bottle and start drinking. It would make us all a lot more comfortable if your super brain was fuzzy.”
“You’re worried what I might do in here, aren’t you?”
“Harry.” Matt sounded resigned. “You reprogrammed a car when you were six years old. We didn’t even know a car could be programmed.”
If Harry had been outside the mine, he would have smacked his cousin upside his head. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Matt, but there are no cars in here.”
“Yeah, I know that, moron, but I’m worried you’ll hatch a plan to dig your way out. Or set about reorganising your surroundings to make escape more efficient. I don’t want you involved. I want you to let the problem go. We’re dealing with it. Your job is to be the damsel in distress. Sit back, look pretty and wait to be rescued.”
Harry decided he’d deal with the “damsel in distress” dig when he didn’t have a hill hanging over his head. “I’m not drinking the wine. I read up on caving before I came in here. It said don’t go caving while drunk.”
He could practically hear Matt roll his eyes. “You’re not caving. You’re stuck behind a door, in a room, in a hill. Think of it as a Hobbit house. Imagine you’re visiting with Bilbo. Hanging out, having a glass of wine. See? Easy. The Hobbits live in hills, and they’re fine.”
“You know Hobbits aren’t real, right?”
“You’re forgetting about Betty.” There was a thud, then a yelp. “You hit me again, old woman, and I’m arresting you for assaulting an officer.”
Betty’s cackle was loud and clear.
“Drink the wine,” Matt said. “One glass won’t hurt.”
Harry thought about it. “Okay. Maybe one glass. But you need to keep me informed about what’s happening out there. I don’t even have cell phone coverage in here. I can’t get internet access to do any research.”
“I swear your mother plugged your toes into a socket when you were born. It’s the only reason I can come up with for your obsession with all things electrical. Your head won’t explode if you don’t have access to a computer for a few hours. Drink your wine and wait for Magenta to get you out.”
“I’m not going back through the mine. I’m waiting here until that door opens.”
“Whatever,” Matt said. “You can work that out with Magenta. I’m sure she’ll be very understanding.”
Harry thumped back onto the dusty floor, pulled the basket towards him and uncorked a bottle of white wine. He didn’t care what kind or colour it was. It all tasted the same to him anyway. Like alcoholic fruit juice, or worse, vinegar. He didn’t bother with a glass; instead he brought the bottle to his lips and wished he’d thought to bring beer. In between mouthfuls he recited the periodic table, then rattled off his favourite equations. It didn’t help. So he worked on his latest programming code instead—speaking it out into the silence. Hoping the noise would fight back the anxiety he knew waited for him in the dark spaces his eyes couldn’t penetrate.
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Magenta felt the calming peace of darkness enfold her as she entered the old mine. She loved everything about it, from the musty smell of untouched years to the close intimacy of the spaces she had to shimmy through. The silence of the place was an embrace for her senses, soothing her tension and easing her fears. Here, in this private world, she could relax completely. There was no one watching her. No standards to fall short of. There was no pressure to perform, or conform, or reform her personality. She could just be.
She heard Harry before she saw him. He was speaking code. Something he’d always done, his own private language. When she was a child, his soft chatter would make her feel secure, the meaningless words kind of like the babble of a brook that washed over her. Now it had the opposite effect. Harry’s deep, husky tones made her insides tingle and her skin vibrate. A disconcerting effect he’d had since he’d ridden back into town. And one she tried to ignore.
He was concentrating so hard that it took him a minute to realise the light from her hardhat had landed on him. The silence was suddenly deafening as he blinked in her direction. Magenta knew better than to shine her light in someone’s eyes, but she couldn’t move from the sight of him.
He sat propped against the wall, all lean muscle and long limbs. He wore his usual faded jeans and geek T-shirt. This one said: Physicists do it at the speed of light. She gnawed her bottom lip to stop from telling him that doing “it” at the speed of light was not an attractive prospect for most women.
“Magenta?” He sounded unsure.
“Who else would it be, Harry?” She pulled a bottle of water from her pack and gulped down half of it. “Were you expecting the dwarves? Thinking they’d come back to reclaim their mine?”
He gave her a dazzling smile. “Lord of the Rings reference. I’m impressed.”
Magenta smiled back, because she knew that Harry couldn’t see her. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the light.
“Think you can stop blinding me now?”
She switched off the light. It took a minute for her eyes to get used to the darkness. There was a faint glow coming in from a couple of cracks beside the door. It gave off enough illumination to make out shapes.
“Get on your feet,” she ordered, hoping that the faster she could get him out of there, the faster she could escape him. “We need to get going.”
He smiled, and her stomach fluttered. Harry’s smile was devastating. Sweet and sexily confident at the same time. He’d lost the guileless look of youth. Now he seemed to know things. Secret things that only a man would know.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here until they open that door.” He pointed at the door, in case she was confused.
Magenta worked to ignore the power of his smile. She folded her arms over her black T-shirt and black hooded jacket. “Stop messing around, Harry. Get up. We need to go.”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, his floppy honey-brown hair falling into his eyes.
“I’m getting annoyed.” She tapped the toe of her black hiking boot. “I came in here to get you out. To do that, you need to come with me.”
Even in the dim light she could see Harry’s penetrating stare. His pale grey eyes were like a beacon in the darkness. “I’m sorry you made a wasted trip. I’m not going through the mine.”
She glared at him, even though she was sure he couldn’t see it. “Why the hell not?” She infused the words with every bit of aggravation she felt.
“Because”—Harry lowered his voice, making it rumble through her body—“I’ve done the calculations and there isn’t enough air in the mine. There’s more air here.” He pointed at the cracks where light seeped in. “See, you can see it getting in. I’m staying where the air is.”
Magenta took a deep breath of Harry’s precious air and crouched down in front of him. “Harry, that isn’t your brain talking. It’s fear. You’re not being rational. The mine is full of air vents. We won’t be going too deep; there will be plenty of air. I’ve done this a lot. I know what I’m talking about. You don’t have to worry.”
He stared at her for a moment. Magenta found herself leaning towards him, as though he somehow magically pulled her closer. “It’s more logical to stay here.”
“That’s great, Mr. Spock, but we’re heading out. I’m telling you, Harry, there’s plenty of air in the tunnels and I’ll make sure you get out safely. I’ve checked these tunnels myself. They aren’t in any danger of collapse. Have I ever lied to you?”
His silver eyes met hers in a challenge. “Yeah, you lied to me. You told me I could always count on you. What was that if it wasn’t a lie?”